


A Revelation in the Light of Day

by onetruealpha



Series: All the King's Horses [5]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternative Events to Echo House, Awesome Melissa, Hurt Stiles, Hurt/Comfort, McCall Family Feels, Non-Graphic Rape/Non-Con, PTSD, Post Nogitsune, Protective Melissa McCall, Protective Scott McCall, Protective Sheriff Stilinski, Rafael McCall is a jerk, Rape/Non-con Elements, Scott is a Good Friend, Stilinski Family Feels, help what have I done, otherwise canon compliant, post 3b
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-30
Updated: 2014-05-30
Packaged: 2018-01-27 15:31:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1715639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onetruealpha/pseuds/onetruealpha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Agent McCall causes problems for Stiles while Melissa tells Sheriff Stilinski what happened in Eichen House.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Revelation in the Light of Day

Sheriff Stilinski is tired by the time he makes it back to his office that evening. It’s been a long day. A jogger had found a body in the Preserve, cause of death unknown. The young man wasn’t mauled or anything that resembled some kind of werewolf or other attack. No bites marks. Nothing. He’s hoping the coroner will come back with a very mundane cause of death such as stroke or heart attack.

He greets Deputy Parrish as he passes his desk and pauses when the man calls his name. “Everything okay?” 

“You have a visitor in the office. I told her it was okay for her to wait there.” 

John’s eyebrows furrow. “Who is it?” 

“Melissa McCall. She seemed upset when she first got here.” 

That gives him pause. And concern. Melissa doesn’t drop by the station often, and when she does it’s almost always related to one of their boys. Something is wrong. He nods at Parrish. “Thanks,” he tells him, heading back for his office and opening the door. He knows that his worries are right when he sees her. 

Her shoulders are hunched, tense. There is a hard frown on her face, and her eyes are troubled. They’re also slightly red-rimmed. As if she’d been crying at some point but she’s trying to hide it. _What now?_ he wonders, suddenly feeling much more tired than he had been. “Melissa?” 

She rises to her feet, gives him a tight smile that’s just barely there. “Sorry to drop by but...we need to talk. It’s important.” 

John nods and moves to the chairs in front of his desk, motioning for her to sit back down in the one she’s vacated. “I’m all ears.” 

Melissa’s quiet for a long moment, and he watches carefully as she tries to gather her thoughts. “When I got up this morning, I found Scott sitting at the kitchen table. He was pretty upset. He’s worried about Stiles.” 

He isn’t surprised by that information, and he nods, looking down at his hands. “I’ve tried to get him to get out of the house more often lately, aside from school, but he’s...not really having it,” he admits with a soft sigh. 

She hesitates. “I went to see him today.” 

“You did?” He arches his eyebrows, and then offers her a small smile, hoping she had more like with his son than he’s had lately. 

Melissa shifts in her chair, turning so she’s facing him more easily. “I have to tell you something and...it’s not going to be an easy thing to hear,” she says gently. “But you need to know because you’re his father and he needs you now more than ever.” 

John pauses, leaning forward a little and resting his arms on his knees as he gazes at her intently. “Melissa, what’s going on?” 

She meets his eyes. “It’s about Stiles’ time in Eichen House.” 

He feels his heart sink at that information. And he knows, _knows_ that whatever she’s about to disclose to him can’t possibly be good in any way, shape or form. 

_____

Rafael lets himself into his ex-wife’s house to wait for Scott to get home from work. He takes the fact that she hasn’t changed the door locks as a sign that she isn’t as annoyed with him about his coming and going at will as she likes to profess. And after all, Scott is still his son. They’re still his family, divorce or not. 

He is, however, more than a little surprised to find Stiles Stilinski sitting at the kitchen table, slumped in a chair with his head resting on his forearms. He knows that Melissa isn’t home because her car isn’t in the driveway, and he knows Scott is at work because he’s driven past the clinic and saw his son’s bike parked there. 

What the hell is the kid doing there alone in the house? And how the hell did he even get _in_? he wonders, annoyed. 

“Stiles,” he greets in a low tone, pleased to see the teenager tense immediately. Good. Let him have a little more respect and fear for authority figures than he’s shown in the past. It’s an improvement if you ask him. 

“McCall,” he responds, lifting his head to look at him. 

There’s no mistaking the coldness in the boy’s eyes or his voice. “Is there something you needed?” he asks, folding his arms across his chest. 

“I’m waiting for Scott to get home from work,” Stiles answers, mimicking his posture with a hint of a challenge in his tone. “You?” 

Rafael’s eyes narrow. “Waiting for my _son_ ,” he answers tensely. 

A cold smirk touches his son’s friend’s mouth. “He’ll be _thrilled_ to see you I’m sure.” Except the sarcasm in Stiles’ voice is unmistakable and he can’t help but think a big part of the reason that Scott wants nothing to do with him is because of this boy. This boy who is always around too much, who’s always gotten Scott into far more trouble than he ever would have gotten into on his own. He and John Stilinski may have come to some kind of unspoken truce, but it clearly doesn’t extend to the sheriff’s son. That’s okay with Rafael. He’s never liked Stiles anyway. 

“How exactly did you even get in? Melissa doesn’t leave the door unlocked,” Rafael says, lifting his chin and staring hard at him.

Stiles reaches into his pocket and pulls out his keys, locating the one to the McCall household and holding it up wordlessly. 

“Melissa gave you a key?” 

He shrugs. “She didn’t take it away.” 

“She has a big heart. It doesn’t mean she wants you here when she and Scott aren’t home.” 

Stiles leans forward and arches an eyebrow. “Somehow I have a feeling they’re more okay with _me_ being here while they’re not home than they are with _you_ being here. You know you don’t actually live here anymore, right?” 

Rafael’s jaw tightens. Little smartass. “And you’ve never lived here,” he points out through gritted teeth. 

The teen smirks, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “I have an open invitation from both members of the McCall family.” 

“I’ll be sure to verify that.” 

“You do that,” he responds, leaning back in the kitchen chair. 

Rafael stares at him for a long moment, growing more tense and annoyed by the moment. “You know, I always hoped you’d outgrow your self-centered, sarcastic bullshit attitude, but it looks like that’s not going to happen.” 

A short chuckle devoid of humor escapes Stiles’ mouth. “And I’ve always hoped you’d fall off the planet and quit messing with Scott’s head every time you decide to show up when you realize you want to play dad for a few minutes, but I guess wishes just don’t come true for some of us.” 

His hands curl into fists and he glares at Stiles. 

“Careful, Agent McCall. Wouldn’t want to assault a minor and risk losing your precious job,” Stiles says mockingly. “You know, the one you love so much that it comes before everything else except your little alcohol problem.” 

“I sincerely hope one of these days that someone comes along and takes you down a few pegs, Stiles. You’re not going to survive into adulthood this way,” he says matter-of-factly. 

“Well I didn’t think you’d survive this long without dying of stupidity or alcohol poisoning, but we’re all wrong once in a while. It happens.” 

Rafael hates that a smartass teenager can get under his skin the way this one can. He’s also disturbed by the fact that he _wants_ to hurt the kid, be it by words or otherwise. He wants to get the upperhand for a chance, to let Stiles know his place in the world. To let him know where on the scale of importance that he _actually_ sits. 

He smirks at Stiles, leaning down onto the table in front of him, surprised when Stiles immediately shrinks away from him. Just a few weeks ago, the kid didn’t have any issues with getting into Rafael’s personal space. And turnabout is fair play in his book. So he leans in closer, misses the look of anxiety that flickers through the kid’s eyes. 

“I wonder how your mom would feel about what a smug little prick you’ve grown into,” he says casually. “I bet she’s rolling over in her grave right now with shame and embarrassment.” 

And there it is. The stricken look that he’s witnessed a few times since he first met Stiles. He feels a surge of power and he reaches out to grab hold of Stiles’ shirt collar, stunned when Stiles bolts so quickly from the chair that he knocks it over and he’s suddenly out of Rafael’s range. 

“Stay away from my son,” he says, eying Stiles suspiciously. “You’re not good enough to be around someone like Scott.” His voice is sharp and he smirks at that look on Stiles’ face -- the look that tells Rafael he hit him exactly where it counts for once. Good. “Now get the hell out of here. And leave your key.”   
_____

Scott is more than mildly annoyed when he comes home to find his father sitting at the kitchen table that evening. He isn’t in the mood to deal with him. Not on top of everything else that’s happening. “You know you don’t actually live here anymore, right?” 

Rafael looks up at him silently. “I’m aware,” he answers. 

“So what are you doing here? Why are you still even in town?” He doesn’t call him _dad_ , doesn’t give him some fake term of endearment that he hasn’t felt in years. Even when his dad had lived there and they’d been a family, he’d been a jerk. Had said and done things that Scott wasn’t sure he was capable of forgiving. 

He sighs. “I’m trying to figure out how to make this word, Scott,” he tells him. 

“There’s nothing to make work. I don’t know you. You don’t know me. And honestly?” He shakes his head and looks away. “I’m not sure I want to be bothered.” It’s the truth. Cold and hard, but the truth often is. He doesn’t feel guilty. Not for this. He wants to go upstairs, take a shower and then pass out for a couple of hours before going to check in on Stiles. He’s had a compulsive need to just go and make sure his best friend is still _breathing_ every day since he’d been split from the nogitsune and not a day’s passed that he hasn’t checked in on him. He’s not going to start today.

“That’s pretty harsh,” Rafael says quietly, looking down at the table. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t deserve it. I’ve never given you any reason to believe I’m sincere in wanting to be your father. I know I’ve let you down --” 

“We both know it’s a lot more than parental disappointment that’s the problem,” Scott says sharply, turning his gaze back to his father. “And you can sit here and say it until you’re blue in the face, but I’m not interested in your platitudes.” He shakes his head and pauses when he catches sight of a single key lying in the middle of the kitchen table. “What is that?”

“It’s a key,” he tells Scott calmly. “I confiscated it from Stiles.” 

Scott turns his gaze back to his father, disbelief clouding his face. “Why?” 

“Because when I got here, he was sitting here like he owned the place and no one else was here. Honestly, Scott, you really need to find better friends.” 

It’s the exact wrong thing that his father could have said because anger surges through Scott and he reaches out, snatching the key off the table. “You have _no_ fucking right to come into the house without permission and start harassing my best friend.” 

“Your best friend doesn’t belong in a house without supervision. That kid is nothing but trouble,” Rafael says firmly. “Furthermore, I’m not going to tolerate that kind of language, Scott. You’re still my son, regardless of -- “ 

“Screw you,” Scott spits out, glaring at him. “Stiles is _family_. He’s always been family to me. More than you have. More than you ever will be. What the hell did you say to him, anyway?” His heart is pounding faster than usual. It has to have been pretty bad if Stiles agreed to give up his key to Rafael. Stiles loathes Scott’s dad, and he knows it. They all know it. Stiles isn’t exactly great about letting go of grudges and for once he’s thankful for that. 

“That’s between me and Stiles,” he says calmly. “Now why don’t you have a seat and we can discuss this new attitude that you’re sporti--” 

“Why don’t you just get out? And here’s an idea. Why don’t you leave _your_ key?” Scott suggests. 

“What’s going on here?” Melissa demands as she walks into the kitchen, depositing her purse on the counter and moving to stand between Scott and his dad. 

“My gene donor took Stiles’ key from him,” Scott tells her. 

Melissa pauses and turns to look at Rafael expectantly. “And you felt this was your place, because…?” 

“Because _someone_ in this house needs to have some common sense!” Rafael says angrily, rising to his feet as he finally loses his temper. “You don’t let strange kids have keys to your house so they can murder you in your sleep! Honestly, Melissa, what the hell are you even thinking, putting yourself and Scott in that kind of potential--” 

Scott’s had enough. “Get _out_ ,” he orders, voice a low growl. He’s not wolfed out yet, but he’s getting damned close. “We don’t want you here. Stay away from me, stay away from Mom, and don’t ever talk to Stiles again!” 

Melissa lays a hand on his arm, giving it a gentle squeeze. “I think it’s best if you hand over your key and leave for the time being,” she says evenly. 

Rafael stares at her for a moment before throwing his key at the table and storming out of the kitchen and out the front door, slamming it behind him. 

“Who does he think he is?” Scott demands, glaring after his dad as he retreats. 

“Sweetheart…” She shakes her head and puts her arm around his shoulders. “Let’s just let it go.” 

Because some things are never going to change. 

“I should...go change and then go check on Stiles,” he says after a moment. 

Melissa hesitates. “Sweetheart, why don’t you give it a couple hours,” she suggests. When he looks at her confused, she looks back at him with sad eyes. “I went to see Stiles earlier today.” She exhales. “You were right. Something happened to him at Eichen House.” 

Scott’s expression is stricken. “Was he -- “ 

“Yes,” she says softly, pulling him into a hug as his face crumbles at her affirmation.

He shudders against her, tears forming in his eyes at the thought of someone hurting his best friend like that. He doesn’t want to think about it, but he can’t not think about it. “I need to go over there and see him. I need to see him.” His voice is urgent even as it breaks. 

“He needs some time with his dad right now, Scott,” Melissa tells him gently, smoothing his hair back. “Just give it a little bit of time and I promise you can go see him soon. Okay?” 

Scott swipes at his eyes with the back of his hand, holding tightly on Stiles’ key to their house with the other. “Yeah. Yeah, all right.” 

“Sweetheart, we’ll get him through it,” she says, pressing a kiss to his temple. “We’ll be there for him, and we’ll get him through all of it. It’s just going to take time.” 

And Scott knows that she doesn’t mean _a little_ time in this case. 

It’s going to take a long time. But Stiles is his best friend. Scott will do whatever he needs to do for as long as he has to do it. 

He’ll do anything.  
____

Stiles is still trembling slightly when he lets himself back into his house. He’d gone to the McCall’s with the intent on telling Scott because he knew that if he didn’t, Melissa would. He hadn’t expected Rafael McCall to be there, hadn’t expected the surge of rage he’d felt at Scott’s dad even if he probably should have. He’s always hated Scott’s dad because Scott’s dad is a jackass of the highest degree and always has been.

He hates him for so many reasons, namely for being an emotionally abusive asshole to both Scott and Melissa. He’d seen it growing up, been around for the harsh and drunken words that the man had spewed at his family and occasionally at Stiles himself. He’d never been that bothered by Rafael’s words, but he’d always been able to see the effect that the name calling and yelling had on Scott and for that, Rafael would never get forgiveness from Stiles. 

Never. 

He isn’t sure why Rafael’s words have messed with him so badly tonight, but he’s unnerved, upset. He _knows_ that Scott and Melissa will be pissed when they find out and they will find out. They always find out everything, eventually.

He isn’t expecting to see his dad sitting on the sofa as soon as he walks in, isn’t expecting to see the pain in his father’s eyes and it dawns on him. Melissa has talked to him. Of course she has. Immediately he looks away because he’s terrified, _terrified_ of the way his dad’s going to look at him now. Scared that it’s going to change how he sees Stiles, that it’s going to put even more tension and distance between them than there already is. Two steps forward and nine steps back. 

“Stiles.” His dad’s voice is barely audible. “I’m so sorry.” 

He blanches at that and shuts the door behind him, facing it for a moment because it’s easier than seeing the pity and judgment in his dad’s eyes. “You didn’t do anything,” he says quietly, blinking back the tears forming in his own eyes. 

“No, but I’m going to,” John Stilinski vows as he rises to his feet. 

Alarmed, Stiles turns to face him. “You _can’t_.” 

“I can’t _not_!” 

He swallows hard at the anger in his dad’s voice. “I don’t know what Melissa told you, but there isn’t any proof. It’s my word against theirs. And they know about Scott and they know about Lydia and it’s not worth the risk of doing something.” And it’s not. Not to him. “Not when we don’t know what they’d do with that information.” 

And there’s the whole complication of Malia being Peter’s _daughter_. There’s nothing that any of them can do and that’s part of why he’s been silent on the entire thing. Everyone around him is so protective, so ready to spring to action when it’s needed, and he knows that none of them are going to want to sit idly by after this. But the risks outweigh the benefits by miles. 

He dares a glance at his dad, who’s staring at him in disbelief. 

“If this happened _to_ Scott or Lydia, would you be willing to do nothing?” he asks. 

And Stiles knows he wouldn’t. He’d find a way -- legal or otherwise -- to do _something._ “It’s not the same, Dad.” 

“The hell it isn’t,” John responds, moving toward him and wrapping him in a tight hug. “One way or another these monsters are gonna pay for what they’ve done.” 

He shuts his eyes as he hugs his dad back, terrified of what his dad might decide to do. Not because he cares what happens to Brunski or to Malia, but because of what could end up happening to his _dad_. What could end up happening to Scott or Lydia or Melissa. They’re all he has and he doesn’t know how to keep them safe -- again -- and it’s _terrifying._

When, Stiles wonders tiredly, are the nightmares going to end?


End file.
